16 December 2011 4:10 PM

In Memoriam: Christopher Hitchens, 1949-2011

How odd it is to hear of your own brother’s death on an early morning radio bulletin. How odd it is for a private loss to be a public event. I wouldn’t normally dream of writing about such a thing here, and I doubt if many people would expect me to. It is made even odder by the fact that I am a minor celebrity myself. And that the , ah, complex relationship between me and my brother has been public property. I have this morning turned down three invitations to talk on the radio about my brother. I had a powerful feeling that it would be wrong to do so, not immediately explicable but strong enough to persuade me to say a polite ‘no thank you’. And I have spent most of the day so far responding, with regrettable brevity, to the many kind and thoughtful expressions of sympathy that I have received, some from complete strangers. Many more such messages are arriving as comments here. My thanks for all of them. They are much appreciated not only by me but by my brother’s family. Much of civilisation rests on the proper response to death, simple unalloyed kindness, the desire to show sympathy for irrecoverable less, the understanding that a unique and irreplaceable something has been lost to us. If we ceased to care, we wouldn’t be properly human.

So, odd as it would be if this were a wholly private matter, I think it would be strange if I did not post something here, partly to thank the many who have sent their kind wishes and expressed their sympathy, and partly to provide my first raw attempt at a eulogy for my closest living relative, someone who in many ways I have known better – and certainly longer - than anyone else alive.

It is certainly raw. Last week I saw my brother for the last time in a fairly grim hospital room in Houston, Texas. He was in great pain, and suffering in several other ways I will not describe. But he was wholly conscious and in command of his wits, and able to speak clearly. We both knew it was the last time we would see each other, though being Englishmen of a certain generation, neither of us would have dreamed of actually saying so. We parted on good terms, though our conversation had been (as had our e-mail correspondence for some months) cautious and confined to subjects that would not easily lead to conflict. In this I think we were a little like chess-players, working out many possible moves in advance, neither of us wanting any more quarrels of any kind.

At one stage – and I am so sad this never happened – he wrote to me saying he hoped for a ‘soft landing’( code, I think for abandoning any further attempts to combat his disease) and to go home to his beautiful apartment in Washington DC. There, he suggested, we could go through his bookshelves, as there were some books and other possessions he wanted me to have. I couldn’t have cared less about these things, but I had greatly hoped to have that conversation, which would have been a particularly good way of saying farewell. But alas, it never happened. He never went home and now never will. Never, there it is, that inflexible word that trails close behind that other non-negotiable syllable, death. Even so, we did what we could in Houston, as the doctors, the nurses, the cleaners, and who knows who else, bustled in and out. I forgot, till I left, that I was wearing a ludicrous surgical mask and gown, and surgical gloves ( I am still not sure whose benefit this was for, but it was obligatory) all the time I was sitting there, and – this is extraordinary – time seemed to me to pass incredibly swiftly in that room. I was shocked when the moment came to leave for the airport, that it had come so soon.

Here’s a thing I will say now without hesitation, unqualified and important. The one word that comes to mind when I think of my brother is ‘courage’. By this I don’t mean the lack of fear which some people have, which enables them to do very dangerous or frightening things because they have no idea what it is to be afraid. I mean a courage which overcomes real fear, while actually experiencing it.

I don’t have much of this myself, so I recognise it (and envy it) in others. I have a memory which I cannot place precisely in time, of the two of us scrambling on a high rooftop, the sort of crazy escapade that boys of our generation still went on, where we should not have been. A moment came when, unable to climb back over the steep slates, the only way down was to jump over a high gap on to a narrow ledge. I couldn’t do it. He used his own courage (the real thing can always communicate itself to others) to show me, and persuade me, that I could. I’d add here that he was for a while an enthusiastic rock climber, something I could never do, and something which people who have come to know him recently would not be likely to guess.

He would always rather fight than give way, not for its own sake but because it came naturally to him. Like me, he was small for his age during his entire childhood and I have another memory of him, white-faced, slight and thin as we all were in those more austere times, furious, standing up to some bully or other in the playground of a school we attended at the same time.

This explains plenty. I offer it because the word ‘courage’ is often misused today . People sometimes tell me that I have been ‘courageous’ to say something moderately controversial in a public place. Not a bit of it. This is not courage. Courage is deliberately taking a known risk, sometimes physical, sometimes to your livelihood, because you think it is too important not to. My brother possessed this virtue to the very end, and if I often disagreed with the purposes for which he used it, I never doubted the quality or ceased to admire it. I’ve mentioned here before C.S.Lewis’s statement that courage is the supreme virtue, making all the others possible. It should be praised and celebrated, and is the thing I‘d most wish to remember.

We got on surprisingly well in the past few months, better than for about 50 years as it happens. At such times one tends to remember childhood more clearly than at others, though I have always had a remarkably clear memory of much of mine. I am still baffled by how far we both came, in our different ways, from the small, quiet, shabby world of chilly, sombre rented houses and austere boarding schools, of battered and declining naval seaports, not specially cultured, not book-lined or literary or showy but plain, dutiful and unassuming. How unlikely it would have seemed in those irrecoverable suburban afternoons that we would take the courses we did take.

Two pieces of verse come to mind, one from Hilaire Belloc’s ’Dedicatory Ode’

‘From quiet homes and first beginnings, out to the undiscovered ends, there’s nothing worth the wear of winning but laughter and the love of friends’

I have always found this passage unexpectedly moving because of something that lies beneath the words, good and largely true though they are. When I hear it, I see in my mind’s eye a narrow, half-lit entrance hall with a slowly-ticking clock in it, and a half-open door beyond which somebody is waiting for news of a child who long ago left home.

And T.S.Eliot’s ‘Little Gidding’ (one of the Four Quartets)

‘We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time’

These words I love because I have found them to be increasingly and powerfully true. In my beginning, as Eliot wrote elsewhere in the Quartets, is my end. Alpha et Omega.

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He has helped me find answers and intellectual tranquility. I will always carry him with me, in my thoughts and I will always seek his advice when needed. Your brother has sacrificed most of his life to bring us peace, by seeking and giving us answers to difficult questions.
He speaks to us, through his books and debates, never to be forgotten.

-Please forgive me for sending the same message twice, I had to correct that missing "h" in "through".-
PS Thank you for taking the time to read my message, I am honored.

Due entirely to ignorance, I only recently became aware of your brother's death. Since your brother was such a prolific and marvelous writer, my initial inclination was to praise his outstanding journalism. But this would have been a slight to Christopher. Today's technology allows us to see and hear others in different and varied venues. I was privileged to witnessed Christopher in debates, one-on-one encounters' book reviews, and television appearances over and over again. Someone said Christopher was reminiscent of Richard Burton. I believe the reverse was more accurate. Richard Burton was pretending, whereas Christopher was being Christopher. When speaking, especially if challenged, provoked, or touched, one could clearly see Christopher's true self emerge---brave, fierce, and combative.
It was also said that in another life Christopher would have been a great Shakespearean actor, except with Christopher it would not be acting, it would be Christopher being normal and natural, all the while messaging the listeners senses. Courage a sub set of character was another part of Christopher's makeup and character will be Christopher Hitchens lasting legacy. In Christopher case, hie persistence in seeking truth, accompanied by honesty, was more precious than gold.

The more lasting something ease the greater its value. Character, particularly in the face of danger, was surely Christopher's strongest attribute. Christopher's commitment to humanitarian principles more often than not required great intestinal fortitude which Christopher had in abundance.Lastly, but more importantly than all others combined was Christopher's many references to children, always kind, caring, and loving. I would have been proud beyond calculation if Christopher had of been my Brother, prouder yet my Dad.

A belated contribution to the moving words written above. Though I am a Catholic I respected your brother for his intellect and courage, and his formidable contribution to the debate on religion and atheism.

It's been some time since your brother's death, and I'm sorry to just now get around to offering condolences. Christopher was, and still is, a great inspiration to me. I would go so far as to say that in some small way, he changed my life. I hope, sincerely, that his passing has been not unbearable for you. My own brother and I share a similar "complex relationship," often going weeks without speaking after a dispute about something of little importance. While one might say that there is no love lost between us, I can only imagine the hurt I would feel at his passing. Your brother lived as though he were immortal, and may have been one of the rare few who deserve to be. You clearly share a gift with him, having eulogized him in prose only a Hitchens could have wrought. I wish you all the best. Take care.

Wonderful evocative piece, I've mended some fences since reading this (albeit belatedly). I was first aware of Peter on Question time and similar programs, thinking this man speaks as I feel ...only in a far more educated and eloquent way and with great ease and conviction. Later I became aware of Christopher who's Politics were not mine but who equally let the world know his view with such mastery I feel the Hitchens household have produced two of the greatest debaters that T.V. has seen. Both are seductive in their own way and regardless of your view Christopher was compulsory viewing because he was as a "new type of bomb", ready to go off at any time, with a helpless moderator trying to defuse it. More often the bomb blew and he would watch his "opponents" try to salvage some argument from the wreckage he'd set them. Good bye mate, I never knew you, but I really wish I had. Thankfully Peter Hitchens flys the banner for commonsense debate, we should cherish that.

I just wanted to offer my belated sympathies, Peter, on the tragic loss of your brother. I remember hearing the news of his passing while I was at work, and I struggled to contain my emotions. Christopher had a tremendous impact on how I view the world, and it still upsets me to this day that someone who enjoyed life so thoroughly and fully, and still had so much to give to the world - so many fascinating thoughts to write and speak - was taken to prematurely.

Peter, my deepest condolences on the loss of your brother, particularly because you considered him lost.......sigh.........sorry for the lateness of my response. The best to yours and his family.....

Just completed The Rage Against God, and have so much to say to you on the subject, since I've been all over the place spiriatully, believer/non-believer/believer, non-believer. I had hoped your book with put an end to my searching........Under separate cover I have some questions for you...........

I think Christopher is in the hands of his heavenly father...........
Jeanette

Dear Mr Hitchens,
I don't suppose you shall see this, amongst all the messages you must be getting, but I can't help writing to say how much your work and your brother's has meant to me over the years.
All best wishes,
William Laing, Waverton, NSW

I have had a particular hard time dealing with your brothers death, as I admired him for the same courage you mentioned and an incredible energy, willpower and driven sense of purpose and conviction that made him so unique. It pains me to imagine the suffering he endured and I can't thank you enough for giving us a glimpse into that room in Houston.
I wrote you earlier about your brother having served as my greatest teacher and professor. I am very familiar with your debates with Christopher and feel sometimes he allowed his resentment and self-righteousness to overlook the simple joy and innocence religion gave back to its believers from the mundane existence of life and the hope it embraced for those who thought of it in complex and philosophical terms.
Still, just because we all see things differently does not discredit his tremendous courage to stand up to the status quo and standard thought that especially plagues the masses in the USA. Christopher was a true Renaissance man who could appreciate literature as much as politics or history and had an insatiable desire for learning and enlightenment that was inspiring. Very few people are as astute, open, witty and fiery in one bundle. He was generous in sharing it with us, you just as generous to share your reflections with us. I cried reading the article. Both of you are inspiring individuals, I am of a much younger age but feel very lucky to have shared existence with both of you and as much as I miss Christopher's writings and thoughts, it is time for you and others like myself to carry on his essence by showing that same courage. A great beacon of light has been lost, it will take many writers to cover the same darkness Christopher was able to shine. Thanks for your generosity in sharing your experiences. I miss Christopher dearly.

I did not know your brother, but I am greatly saddened at the loss of your Christopher. I hope that there will someday be another journalist and author, and advocate for humanity, as your brother. I express my condolences to you and your family. I am an Atheist who loves Christopher's teachings, and I also want to express to you my love and condolences. I am so saddened by the loss of Christopher. When you hear someone who speaks the truth and stands up for others, and you admire them for it; It is so hard to lose them. He was a voice for so many, and a Champion for women's rights / Human rights / and a voice for reason and kindness. He is not forgotten.

I loved him like a teen idol and his profound insight on humanity and religion will not be matched. I wept upon hearing about his illness as I have about his death. Christopher was an inspiration and a beacon for truth. My deepest sympathy for you Mr. Hitchens and your family...

Peter, sir, I was deeply moved (to tears) by your eloquent reflections about your brother. Your thoughts about his unflappable courage were gracious, and his personal courage to argue his convictions with strength (whether I agree with them or not) has certainly been inspiring. Over the past few years, I have prayed for Christopher several times. Having watched a few of his discussions, I was impressed by his wit, knowledge, and rhetorical skills. In order to try to understand his philosophy, I have read Dawkins' The God Delusion, and looked into Christopher's God is Not Good...(having been part of a Classic Book Club for at least 15 years, in which we study classics of world literature, classics of the faith, and controversial books--in order to get a grasp of the philosophies of our day). I am now intrigued to read your book, also.

I have lost several close family members and friends, and I am acquainted with suffering on a few other fronts, as well, so my heart, thoughts, and prayers go out to you and Christopher's family in a very sincere way--born of personal experience with grief. May each of you be comforted in your time of anguish and sorrow. ~~Melody

I was so extremely impressed when I first heard Christopher defending his book , 'God is not great', because for the first time I felt that there was someone about who could robustly confront the devout, far more rigorously than anyone else ever has in my opinion.

I have read many of his books and watched probably all the TV appearances he made. I felt like I knew him well and yet I never met him and when I heard the news of his illness I knew this day would eventually come. I was filled with genuine sadness the day he died and miss not reading what he would have written should he had more time.

My thoughts are with you and his family because it is such a huge loss. I like to think of him and celebrate his life because he touched mine in such a distinctive way.

Dear Peter
My deepest condolences to you and your family. There are no words.
I will miss his unique perspective on the world. Thank you for this wonderful article. I look forward to reading more of your blog.

I like the way you write, agree with much you have to say, certainly with the words you share with us from C.S. Lewis, Hilaire Belloc, and TSEliot, but I do wish you had said less about yourself on this occasion, and much about your older brother whom you did know for some, what, 60 years?

I wish I could have shaken his hand. I loved him like a teen idol and his profound insight on humanity and religion will not be matched. I wept upon hearing about his illness as I have about his death. Christopher was an inspiration and a beacon for truth. My deepest sympathy for you Mr. Hitchens and your family

I am so very sorry for your loss. I am heartbroken for your family and his family. You and your writings have always been an encouragement to me. Your brother's writings have always impressed me with their wit and depth of knowledge. But none of his books or speeches mean as much as his relationship with you. You have lost your brother. There is nothing I can do but send you my condolences and wish for your healing from this loss. As your sister in Christ and someone who has also lost siblings, I am praying for your family during this time of pain and loss.

Dear Mr Hitchens,
Loving greetings from us all. The Office for the Dead will be offered for your dear brother Christopher by our community. Death always comes as a surprise, especially when it is your own death. But I think his obituary is, in Miller's words; "He let himself be truly known."
Pax et bonum,
for all our your little sisters
Sr Maria

I too lost a brother to cancer, one whom I fell out with more or less as soon as I became an adult. The bonds formed in childhood are so powerful, strong enough to outlive any adult quarrel. In the last days we got on so well because we remembered what connected us rather than what separated us. I wept for the loss of a brother I had barely seen in decade. Love is a strange thing, it seems to be a feeling we have as children but lose as adults, in much the same way, to use a more prosaic example, as we lose the ability to learn language by mimicry.

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